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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24572158">Cafe Gamma</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/startrekkingaroundasgard/pseuds/startrekkingaroundasgard'>startrekkingaroundasgard</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Bruce Banner Bingo [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops &amp; Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Asexual Bruce Banner, Awkward Romance, Bruce Banner-centric, Circus, Circus Performer Clint Barton, Comfort, Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family Dinners, First Dates, Fluff, M/M, Nightmares, Reader-Insert, Science, Team as Family, gender neutral reader, tightrope</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:07:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,471</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24572158</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/startrekkingaroundasgard/pseuds/startrekkingaroundasgard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce is the antisocial owner of Cafe Gamma, the only all-night coffee shop on campus which the reader visits practically everyday. One night, Bruce steps out of his comfort zone and asks the reader out in his own, awkward way.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bruce Banner/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Bruce Banner Bingo [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1776064</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. You don't do this often, do you?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cafe Gamma was your safe haven. The only place on campus open after midnight to provide you with that well needed, if ill-advised, shot of caffeine as you worked late into the night on your projects. Run by a handsome and slightly eccentric post-grad, the cafe opened at sundown and was boarded up for the day by the time the first rays of the morning sun shone across the city. Due to that exclusively nocturnal schedule, many people had begun to believe he was a vampire. You wouldn’t judge either way, though, not when he brewed the best coffee around.</p><p>Lured by the delicious scent as it drifted across campus on the evening breeze, you let your feet guide you to the cafe, already salivating before you even walked in the door. Despite the late hour, the place was bustling. The equivalent of a nerd’s nightclub, students were sprawled across the comfortable sofas and beanbags with their laptops, each plugged in to their own music or podcasts as they fought with their dissertations. </p><p>Thankfully, the queue moved quickly. Gamma’s fast service was also a major selling point of the cafe, although it came about only because the brunet behind the counter ardently refused to make small talk with anyone. Only fools attempted to draw him into conversation, newbies to the area who learnt very soon that, despite his many talents and great intelligence, the owner’s people skills were somewhat lacking.</p><p>You stepped up to give your order and met Bruce’s light brown eyes with a smile. It had taken almost three years of frequenting the cafe to learn his name. In line with his polite but antisocial attitude, he refused to wear a name tag and you only caught his name by accident when you overheard his singular friend - Tony, a robotics genius on the fast track to running NASA before he reached twenty five - mention it one evening. </p><p>Before you even opened your mouth, Bruce pulled your order from behind the counter and handed it over. Still boiling hot, which meant he could only have prepared it within the past few minutes. Astounded, you fumbled for a response and were met with a quiet, nervous chuckle escaped his lips as he glanced at the clock. “It’s four thirty on a Tuesday morning.”</p><p>    “I don’t remember asking for the talking clock.”</p><p>A handsome red tinge spread across his cheeks, softening the sharp lines of his jaw. You couldn’t recall ever having seen him smile - not that you could quite class that particular grimace as such - but it was a sight you wished to see again. Bruce raked at his hair, messing it up beyond its usual, carefully cultivated style. “Sorry. It’s just that you always come in at this time on Tuesdays and order the same thing every time.”</p><p>    “Oh. Well, thank you, Bruce.”</p><p>That gorgeous tint crept further up his neck and the barista rubbed his neck, smiling awkwardly at the ground. You realised that this was probably the longest conversation he had had with anyone other than Tony in a long time so decided to leave the poor man be before he spontaneously combusted. </p><p>The takeaway cup warm against your palm, you thanked him again, tapped your card against the machine then turned away. You managed a whole three steps towards the door before you heard him call, “I, uh, I don’t know your name.”</p><p>You were acutely aware of how the students around you had knocked off their headphones, a not so subtle attempt to overhear your conversation. Apparently they too recognised this as exceptional behaviour from their beloved provider of caffeine and were far more interested in the few brief words he was willing to share with you than working on their actual degrees. You should have been annoyed but honestly you would be acting the exact same way if you were in their position. </p><p>Walking back to the counter, you set your drink down and rested your elbows on the edge. You gave Bruce your name and asked, “You don’t do this often, do you?”</p><p>He shook his head, angling his body towards the corner of the room so that none of his nosy patrons could read his lips. “Is it that obvious?”</p><p>    “It’s sweet,” you said, laughing at your own diplomatic answer. You gently touched his arm, a comforting gesture which only made him stiffen. You immediately pulled your hand back and apologised. </p><p>    “It’s fine. I just… Life has been hard and I don’t really like people… you know?”</p><p>While it was fairly obvious that he didn’t like people, you understood what he was trying to say. After all, just because he had stepped out to talk to you didn’t make you anything more than relative strangers and you wouldn’t push your touchy-feely nature on someone that didn’t want it. </p><p>Only when you smiled did you realise how nervous Bruce had been for your reaction. His shoulders fell, the tension drifting away at your understanding. It filled you with anger that the world had trodden him down and left him with so many invisible scars that he feared you would cross such a simple boundary without permission. </p><p>    “It’s alright. I get it. You don’t need to worry with me,” you assured him. “I’ve gotta run back to the library before someone steals my stuff but do you wanna do something sometime?”</p><p>    “Uh…”</p><p>    “We don’t have to, if you don’t want to, obviously. How about I leave you my number and then you text me?" </p><p>Bruce had his phone out before you’d even finished the question, his eagerness charming in a way you couldn’t explain. Turning his phone over in your hands, you were amazed how it still functioned with so many cracks, dents and scratches on it. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his apron and shifted his weight on his feet, admitting, "I take my anger out on my phone. Tony made it a new case to withstand the force of being slammed into a wall.”</p><p>    “Does that happen often?” you asked as you input your contact information.</p><p>    “The anger or the throwing against the wall?”</p><p>    “Both.”</p><p>    “I’m always angry. It just tends to burst out when I’m working in the lab and something goes wrong. Phones are cheaper to replace than table top particle accelerators.”</p><p>You nodded, unable to find fault in that argument. Handing his phone back over, your fingers brushed past his and a tingle shot straight up your arm. Bruce held your gaze intently, clearly feeling the same sensation. The sounds of the cafe died away - perhaps you were in your own world, floating together or maybe the entire student population had stopped working to spy on your moment - but then quickly resumed as he pulled away. </p><p>    “I’ll, uh…” Bruce leaned in barely an inch but it still somehow made your heart flutter. A quiet whisper, his breath just catching your cheek, he whispered, “How soon is too soon to text you?”</p><p>You swiped your drink from the counter and winked at him, unable to hold back the smile as the familiar blush returned to his cheeks. Forgoing an answer, figuring that he was doing his second PhD and was smart enough to figure it out on his own, you gave a little wave and said, “Can’t wait to hear from you, Bruce. See you later.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. You're a right catch</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The reader hasn't heard from Bruce in a few days so goes to search for him. They find him in his lab, so engrossed in work that he's lost best part of a week. Bruce invites the reader out on a proper date.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eight days and you hadn't heard anything from Bruce. Maybe you hadn't been clear enough when you'd given your number or maybe he just changed his mind. Either way, it was his prerogative. It stung a little as you really had been quite excited to see him again but that was life. You'd move on and smile sweetly at the handsome brunet as he served you your drink then part ways like the relative strangers you were. </p><p>However, your concerns only grew after last night.  As you'd drawn near to Cafe Gamma, you had begun to worry that something else was dreadfully wrong. The lights which usually blazed in the dark like a beacon calling to those that wandered lost through the long nights of endless study were off. The shutter was down and the bins were empty. The only sign of life: an equally confused and saddened student unable to get their caffeine fix. </p><p>Hundreds of dreadful explanations plagued you throughout the evening, kept you from sleeping at all. Not even your compulsory statistics module was enough to bore you to sleep. You couldn't shake the fear that something awful had happened to Bruce and decided that you needed to find him to be sure. </p><p>Sneaking out from your lecture, you headed over to the biochemistry labs. They were bright and newly refurbished, kitted out with the best equipment and each door brandishing a golden nameplate that thanked the generous donors who had made the refit possible. The labs were all but empty with everyone on their lunch break.</p><p>You pushed open the door to lab six, the smallest of the lot, situated in the far corner of the building. All manner of complicated rigs and setups covered the workstations. Colourful solutions bubbled through curling tubes and strange smelling gases filled the air. Some of the equipment was automated, run with standard computers, timers and simple robotic processes. </p><p>Other setups were clearly experimental with actual robotic hands and arms performing mundane tasks such as separating solutions and purifying chemicals. It was a wonder to watch until a particularly large and clumsy claw knocked over a beaker of bright blue solution. An alarm sounded as the bench worktop started to fizz, ear shatteringly loud. </p><p>    "You stupid thing! Tony said he'd fixed you!" Bruce hissed, dumping a white powder on top of the blue liquid. The powder soaked up the spill almost instantly, doubling in size as it drew in the solution. He slammed his fist down against the largest joint on the mechanical arm, an angry but apparently necessary adjustment as the robot swirled its claw, regained its bearings and began to clear away the now turquoise powder. </p><p>Bruce lifted his head to the ceiling and swore under his breath, staring into the flashing red light above with hatred in his eyes. "Will you shut up?" </p><p>Moments later, it finally stopped ringing and you pulled your fingers from your ears. Bruce slumped into a chair and clawed at his face with his hands, groaning as he doubled over. The exhaustion poured off of him in waves, every inch of his body stiff and tightly wound. </p><p>Cautiously, so as not to spook him like a hunted animal, you knocked on the door and called his name. Bruce looked up instantly, his bloodshot eyes and deep purple bags confirming your suspicion that he hadn't slept for days. A soft smile lightened the deep stress wrinkles on his face as he crossed the lab towards you. </p><p>He looked you over with a scientific precision and then glanced at the spare lab coat hung on the wall beside you. The implication was clear and you quickly slipped it over your clothes. Bruce pulled a spare pair of safety goggles from his pocket and handed them to you. They were too big for you, designed to sit over his glasses, but you could balance them on your nose if you remained perfectly still. </p><p>    "It's good - great - to see you." Bruce said, able to meet your eye now that you were adhering to the lab safety code. </p><p>    "I was getting worried about you. Gamma's been shut for days, Bruce. No one has seen or heard from you in all that time!" You took a breath, pushing the concern down, and tried to brush off the outburst as a joke. "Do you know how many students are suffering from midnight caffeine withdrawal? They'll be raiding the twenty-four hour corner shop down on Hampton Green soon."</p><p>    "It's only been a day. They can't be that desperate."</p><p>You glanced to the calendar behind him. This month's picture was none other than Tony, naked save for a carefully placed (and exceptionally large) sunflower. Bruce explained it as his friend's idea of a joke, a Christmas present from last year, and you bit your tongue to refrain from pointing out that he didn't have to hang it up. </p><p>Each day was neatly marked with a cross in the centre of the box. The last was five days ago.  "It's Thursday, Bruce."</p><p>    "No, no. It's only Sunday. Maybe Monday at a push."</p><p>Shaking your head, you said softly, "Definitely Thursday."</p><p>    "Shit. I've been working on this project and the synthesis has to be controlled at all times so I never… It doesn't matter. You don't really care."</p><p>    "Of course I do." Bruce's brown eyes lit up like tiny fireworks, sparkling in the harsh laboratory light. You reached out to touch his hand but hesitated, recalling how uncomfortable he had been before. Instead, you settled with a soft look that made his face brighten even more. "But right now, I think you need to get some rest."</p><p>    "I've got two more cycles I need to watch and then I'll rest."</p><p>    "Promise?" He nodded. "Okay. Good. Well, text me when you leave the lab or get home or something so I know you're alright."</p><p>Bruce's forehead crumpled a little. Fidgeting with the sleeves of his lab coat - which was, you noticed, covered in a series of colour stains from all manner of failed experiments - he muttered, "I don't have a phone, right now. It met with an unfortunate end."</p><p>You raised an eyebrow, encouraging him to explain. Apparently, while he was focusing on a particularly intense separation yesterday (which could have been any day over the past week, realistically), it hadn't stopped buzzing. So, in a fit of annoyance, Bruce threw it against the wall to shut it up and not even Tony's super case or an exceptionally large bag of rice had been enough to save it once it fell into a vat of boiling water. </p><p>    "So you weren't ignoring me?"</p><p>    "No! I mean, I wouldn't -" Bruce clawed at his brown curls and shook his head. "I was going to - I suppose I could simply ask you now that you're here in person. I, uh…"</p><p>    "Deep breath."</p><p>    "Right. Yes. Good." He closed his eyes and said smoothly, "There's a circus coming to town next week. Do you want to go with me?"</p><p>    "Yes. Very much so."</p><p>His eyes shot open, wide with surprise at the certainty in your voice. It was a charming look, although not one you could understand. Never had anyone looked at you like he did, as if you were the moon or a glittering falling star in the night sky. It was, for lack of a better word, nice to seen that way and you had no qualms about your answer. </p><p>    "Are you sure?"</p><p>    "Don't put yourself down, Bruce. You're a right catch. Go finish your experiment and then -"</p><p>    "Sleep, I remember."</p><p>    "Good. And for the love of all that is good and holy in the world, find someone to cover your shifts at Gamma or there will be a riot."</p><p>Bruce laughed, soft and gentle just like him. "I'll work on it. See you soon, Y/N."</p><p>    "See you soon, Bruce."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Walking a Tightrope</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Bruce takes the reader to the circus where they bump into his old friend, Clint.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You tugged on the collar of your coat, the adjustment doing little to save you from the onslaught of rain. At your side, Bruce apologised over and over for the awful weather as if he had any control over it. The forecast had been grim from the start but the sky was clear and you'd decided to walk across town to the field where the circus had pitched up. Unfortunately, halfway there, the heavens had opened and there wasn't a bus in sight. </p><p>It was just water though and you weren't going to let anything ruin your good mood today. After all, Bruce had met you outside the library with a cup of your favourite drink in hand and a bright smile on that handsome, freshly shaven face of his. Your arms brushed as you walked, the brief contact more than enough to warm your chilly, sodden skin and conversation flowed as easily as the water into the drains as you walked. </p><p>When the circus tent came into view, larger than you had imagined, the bright striped fabric filling you with excitement, you suddenly pursed your lips in consideration. The field was, due to the wonderful change in weather, absolutely sodden and your only path was through the thick mud. These weren't your favourite shoes in the world but you would mourn their brave sacrifice.</p><p>Offering Bruce your hand, you shrugged, cheerfully unaffected by the weather. Trying not to cringe at the uncomfortable way the ground sank beneath your feet, you asked, "Shall we?"</p><p>In hindsight, you should have perhaps waited before storming across the field to the tent. If you had, you might have spotted the cardboard sign on the fence (which was, admittedly, falling apart in the rain) and seen that the circus was closed for the day. Only when you reached the front entrance, mud sprayed up your trousers and shoes irreparably sodden, were you greeted by a tired looking performer who shared the news. </p><p>She wore a bright costume, the sparkling fabric clinging to her body in a way that showed off everything and couldn't be comfortable. Her makeup was bright and colourful, like an abstract painting or a child's nursery wall - you couldn't quite decide. "Show's off today. If you bought tickets you can come back tomorrow and they'll let you in. There's always spare seats."</p><p>Disappointment flooded your veins and Bruce's hand found yours, giving a gentle squeeze. Letting go, he stepped up and muttered something to the performer, who nodded understandingly. She gestured inside and pulled a few towels from a box nearby. "Wait here," she said. "I'll go find him."</p><p>    "Find who?" you asked.</p><p>Met with a mysterious silence from Bruce, you took a seat on the box and waited for the surprise guest to appear. You only had to wait a few minutes before a tall, blond with spiky hair appeared. His skin was littered with tiny plasters and his shirt, white with purple concentric rings, had more holes in it than a fishing net. The man's grin grew exponentially when he saw Bruce and he slapped your date heartily on the back, pulling him into a tight hug. </p><p>Bruce put his hands on the other man's chest and gently pushed him away, separating them but maintaining the close distance. He regarded the blond with an amused gaze which boarded on concerned as he took in the mess of cuts, scrapes and bruises that littered his body. "Clint…"</p><p>    "Yeah, yeah, I know. Believe it or not, this is taking care of myself. How have you been, bud?" Clint suddenly seemed to realise that you were there, a dopey grin spreading across his face. He stretched out a hand, offering the most vigorous shake you'd ever received. "Well, hello, gorgeous. Who are you?"</p><p>    "My date," Bruce said, the warning clear. "Be nice."</p><p>The friendly threat only served to increase Clint's mood further as he grabbed your hand and pulled you into the centre of the ring. He swung you around and guided you to the raised podium, strapping you into a rig before you had even realised what he was doing. The rope irritated your wrists as you tugged on it but your escape efforts quickly dried up as Clint drew a bow and an arrow from… somewhere and aimed it directly at you. </p><p>    "Clint…" Bruce warned again, but the archer was clearly mad and paid him no attention. </p><p>Lining up his shot, you looked him dead in the eye as his muscles tensed and drew the string back to his cheek. A sharp pop echoed around the tent and you winced as the arrow embedded itself into the board right beside your ear. </p><p>Your heart raced as Clint loaded another arrow and took another shot, the sharp head brushing past your cheek before hitting the target behind you. For his final shot, Clint took his aim and then closed his eyes. Tempted to follow suit, you instead found yourself searching for Bruce's gaze, seeking comfort in his worried expression. He managed a shaky smile as the arrow pinged loose, a silent prayer filling the air. </p><p>Clint cheered when the shot found its mark just above your head. It was so close that you could feel the arrow brush across the top of your skull as Bruce jumped up onto the platform to untie you. He made quick work of the tight knots, struggling more to take your hand and help you down from the rig. </p><p>Emotions raging, you stormed over to Clint and grabbed him by the tattered neck of his shirt. "Do that again I'll shove one of those nice arrows up your ass."</p><p>    "I like you," Clint grinned, twisting out of your grip with ease. He jumped up onto a box and balanced precariously on the edge, gaze flickering between you and Bruce with interest. "Did the Big Guy here tell you that he almost joined the circus with me?"</p><p>That was certainly news. You turned to Bruce who was shooting daggers at his ridiculously smiley friend. Running a hand through his hair, he turned to you and admitted, "Things were pretty tough when I was a kid. Same for Clint. We were gonna run away together but I ended up getting a scholarship and got away through that."</p><p>    "What would you have done? If you'd joined up, I mean."</p><p>    "You wouldn't know beneath those awful clothes but Bruce is ridiculously buff. Always has been. With proper training he could have been our strongman."</p><p>You and Clint shared a look, the same idea coming to you both. You wondered whether all of Bruce's friends were secretly brilliant. Maybe that was why he became close with them: he was drawn to excellence. It made you wonder briefly what he saw in you but you shoved those insecurities aside, too interested to see him flex his muscles to dwell. </p><p>Sensing what was coming, Bruce shook his head. Quite adamant in his answer, he said, "No. I've not done that for years and you know it, Clint."</p><p>    "Just a little show?" you asked. If it were any other guy, you might have fluttered your lashes or tried to look seductive but all you had to do for Bruce was smile and he was putty in your hands. "Please?"</p><p>With a deep, deep sigh, the kind that a drama student would be proud of, Bruce removed his soggy blazer and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt around his elbows. Clint was right; Bruce was hiding some incredible muscles beneath his clothes. It was a wonder they didn't just burst out of the loose fabric. </p><p>He crouched down and closed his eyes, drawing on some invisible force, and then lifted the box on which Clint was perched into the air. The archer cheered and jumped down from the height with a flamboyant rolling landing. You bet that he was the crowd's favourite performer. </p><p>Bruce set the box down, a shy smile on his face as you applauded the show. "Amazing," you said, meaning it. "What's the most you ever lifted?"</p><p>    "A few hundred kilos, I guess? That sounds about right, doesn't it, Clint?"</p><p>    "Yeah. I mean that was back when you were a strapping young teenager. The years are showing now, mate."</p><p>You thumped Clint for him. Reiterating Bruce's earlier warning, albeit in a far friendlier way, you said, "Be nice. I don't suppose I could have a go on the tightrope, could I? I've always wanted to give it a try."</p><p>The words had barely left your mouth before Clint wrapped his hand around your wrist and tugged you towards the platform. You almost wondered how the two men had ever been friends. Bruce seemed to think things through, to take the slow and logical approach. Clint, on the other hand, had already proved himself to be the quick acting, impulsive one. You could only imagine the trouble he had gotten them into. </p><p>You kicked your muddy shoes off and climbed up after him, desperately trying not to look at how the bright purple spandex pulled across his bum. It was a great look, you had to admit, only not one you wanted to see quite this close up. </p><p>At the top, Clint hooked his leg around a pole and balanced on the edge of the platform by the tip of his toes to create as much space for you as possible. Looking down at Bruce, you suddenly wondered whether this was a good idea at all. He - and more importantly, the floor - seemed an awfully long way down.</p><p>    "You'll be fine," Clint promised. He stretched down, somehow maintaining his footing, and then pulled himself upright, a very long pole in hand. "This'll help you keep your balance." </p><p>    "I'm not so sure about this…"</p><p>    "Come on," he goaded, passing over the wooden pole. Clint adjusted your grip and centred it, apparently making the most of physics. You were sure Bruce could explain the intricacies but right now you had other things on your mind, mainly not falling to your death. Guessing your thoughts, Clint said, "The rope can sense fear so it's best to clear your mind."</p><p>    "It's a long way down."</p><p>    "No shit. Deep breath, sugar. It's not as far as it looks and you can easily survive a fall. The mats break the fall. Just… Try not to fall on your back. Or your knees. Or feet. Or at all, really, if you can avoid it." Somehow finding amusement in your fear, Clint jumped up onto a pole that ran parallel to the tightrope and hung upside down above you. "I'll spot you. It'll be fine. If you start to wobble, I'll catch you. There's a hole in the tent on the other side of the wire, keep your eyes on that. It helps."</p><p>    "Swear?"</p><p>He nodded, shuffling backwards along the pole with ease. Ignoring every instinct that told you this was an awful idea, you stepped out onto the rope and laughed. This was easier than you thought. The long pole helped you keep your balance, the giant swing of the arms giving you time to adjust yourself or for Clint to reach down and do it for you. </p><p>Slowly making progress across the wire, you began to relax and enjoyed the experience for what it was: utter madness. You felt free up here, as if you could do anything. Crossing the halfway mark, you glanced down to Bruce who watched you with awe. His smile was so blinding that you lost your footing on the next step. </p><p>Everything happened in slow motion. Clint, hanging on the metal pole by his feet, swung down to grab your arm. Your fingers brushed his, just missing their grip, and then you were falling. Gravity was such a bitch. Eyes squeezed tightly shut, too scared to scream, you curled into yourself as you neared the ground. Your life flashed before your eyes and then… </p><p>Bruce caught you. </p><p>By some miracle, he was in exactly the right place to catch you. He wrapped you in his arms and turned, the long wooden pole bouncing off of his broad shoulders as he protected you from the blow. You looked up with adoration, unable to voice your gratitude and the mess of other emotions you were feeling. </p><p>    "I, uh…" Bruce wet his lips, belated panic setting in as his brain caught up with what had just happened. He set you on the ground, shot a killer glance at Clint and then crouched in front of you. Checking for non existent injuries, he asked, "Are you alright?"</p><p>You nodded, unable to summon your voice. Instead, you placed a light kiss on his cheek. Bruce was still fumbling for words when Clint landed a few feet away. Scratching his neck, the archer apologised for missing your hand. "Sorry. Should've caught you. I will next time."</p><p>Your voice came back as you hastily replied, "Nope. Never doing that again."</p><p>    "Figured. Really am sorry, though. You did great. Anyway, you should probably go before the ringleader gets back. He'll kill me if he knows that I almost accidentally killed you." Turning to Bruce, he nodded sharply and said, "See you round, Big Guy. Keep in touch, yeah? I want an invite to the wedding."</p><p>Utterly flustered, Bruce simply turned and walked away without another word - a feeling you understood well. As a parting gift, Clint gave you his wellington boots for the trek back across the field. They were a few sizes too big but infinitely better than your forgotten canvas shoes. </p><p>Bruce to your right, you tugged your coat over your head and took a long breath, ready to face the elements once again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Demon Whisperer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Bruce and the reader take a walk through the campus and cross paths with the local demon: Professor Fury's cat, Goose.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It wasn’t difficult to miss Bruce with his oversized and wrinkled purple shirt and loose fitting khakis. Even if there had been an enormous crowd around him, you would have picked out that nervous smile instantly. He gave you a little wave from across the street then shoved his hands back in his pockets, swaying back and forth on his heels awkwardly as he waited for you to join him. </p><p>    “Hey,” he said, leaning in for… a hug, a kiss on the cheek? You weren’t sure and apparently neither was he because Bruce quickly straightened up and shook your hand instead. It would have been funny if he wasn’t so clearly scared. You could see it written across his face like giant, flashing, neon letters on his forehead. His incredible mind raced at a hundred miles an hour as his wide gaze searched your face for any sign that he had already irredeemably fucked this up. </p><p>Quick to assure him otherwise, you squeezed his hand, rested your other hand on top. Without dwelling on it, you offered him your arm and felt your heart lift as he linked his with yours. It was a major step for someone so averse to touch and you savoured the warmth in your chest that bloomed knowing how hard he was trying for you. </p><p>Starting off across campus, the sun peeking through the white clouds overhead, its rays warm on your cheeks, you asked, “How have you been? Broke another phone recently?”</p><p>Bruce hummed, thoughtful and humouring. “There was a small incident yesterday in the lab. But I’m sure you knew that already.”</p><p>    “Pretty much the entire campus is talking about it. Not often we get three bomb evacuations in one day.”</p><p>    “Not a bomb,” Bruce pointed out. “Just a slightly unstable reactor.”</p><p>    “And when you say slightly unstable, are we talking Joe who does the university’s gardening or Chernobyl?" </p><p>    "What’s wrong with Joe?”</p><p>You shrugged. “He just has a few… strange beliefs. Great guy to talk conspiracies with though. You know the cherry blossoms in the courtyard? Well, he arranged them in a pentagram and sits there at sunset every day to see if the Devil appears. He’s been leaving offerings of cheese and marmite sandwiches but that hasn’t worked because the birds keep eating them. Says he’s waiting to make a deal; his soul in order to expose the lizard people in charge of the government and then be taken away by aliens." </p><p>    "And that’s the baseline for your scale of instability?”</p><p>    “He’s harmless and a lovely guy, really.”</p><p>The afternoon sun caught Bruce’s eyes and they shimmered brightly, although you couldn’t help but wonder how much of that was an internal glow, his inner self showing through the anxious, nerdy shell he wore as a shield against the world. “I suppose, in that case, the reactor is somewhere between Joe and Chernobyl. Think… Goose, Professor Fury’s cat.”</p><p>    “That demon?”</p><p>    “She bit you too, huh?" </p><p>    "Scratched,” you said, pulling up a sleeve to reveal a light scar on the back of your wrist. Goose was well known on campus. She wandered free during the night, praying on innocent students who didn’t know better. As far as you were aware, no one had crossed paths with the evil creature and gotten away unharmed. If you got away with just a little scratch, you had done well. The campus nurse kept a record of all Goose related injuries in a file that was now about as thick and comprehensive as a small encyclopedia, a fascinating, if curiously violent, read. </p><p>As if summoned by speaking her name, the ginger cat meowed from the shade beneath one of Joe’s very own cherry blossom trees. Perhaps he was closer to summoning the Devil than anyone had realised for Goose was certainly one of his agents on Earth. </p><p>You instinctively pulled back into Bruce’s arms. His tight hold around your waist made you feel safe and he guided you behind him, putting himself between you and harm’s way. Your hero. Ignoring your warnings, he crouched down and stretched out a hand to the cat, charming her out of the shadows with a gentle coo. </p><p>Goose narrowed her eyes at him, locking their gazes. You could practically feel the darkness around her as she sucked on his soul, eating him from the inside out in preparation to finish the job entirely. She hissed sharply, her tiny body, brimming with evil, tight and ready to pounce. Claws extended, Goose shifted her weight back and leapt at Bruce - straight into his arms.</p><p>    “Who’s a good kitty?” he sang. Goose purred softly as he scratched the back of her neck, fidgeting against his shirt and finally making herself comfortable against his chest. Bruce turned to you, a bright smile on his face. If you didn’t know better, you might have mistaken that quiet confidence for smugness. “I am, according to Professor Fury, one of only two students on campus that Goose has never mauled.”</p><p>    “And the other?” You took a weary step forward but jumped back when Goose turned her dark glare on you. She had claimed Bruce as her own and you were damned if she would let you near him now. </p><p>    “Carol Danvers. The union president.”</p><p>You nodded, fully able to believe that. Carol was by far the most likeable person on the planet, strong and beautiful and absolutely fearless. She took no shit from anyone and you weren’t surprised to learn that she had managed to win Goose’s attention too. </p><p>    “How do you do it?”</p><p>Bruce shrugged. He thumbed at Goose’s soft, ginger coat (you assumed it was soft, not brave enough to reach out and touch it for yourself), earning another soft purr from the demon in a cat suit. “I’m good with strays. They make me feel calm and seem to like me.”</p><p>Never had you seen Bruce so comfortable, so confident in himself. He stood a little straighter, held his head a little higher and he spoke nonsense to Goose. Happiness radiated from him like the sun above and you felt your heart tighten in your chest once more. </p><p>    “They’re not the only ones,” you said. </p><p>He turned away before you could confirm that that gorgeous blush spread across his skin, but the gentle pink that rose up the back of his neck was a pretty good indication that you had flustered him. Bruce set Goose back on the ground and promised to come and see her again later in the evening. </p><p>Then he straightened his shirt, brushed the ginger hairs from the front and offered you his arm. “Shall we, uh, coffee?”</p><p>Taking your hold, you gave his arm a soft squeeze and began walking. “I think that sounds perfect.”</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. In The Dark</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Bruce goes travelling for part of his research and the reader misses his presence. He rings them up during the night after a nightmare and they comfort him.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Pulled from your sleep by a gentle buzzing, you rubbed your eyes and stared at the mess around you. You stretched your arms out wide, an unsightly yawn like a lion’s roar in your otherwise silent apartment. Clicking your neck, you knocked the notes page which clung to your cheek, an embarrassing damp patch and smudged ink suggested that you had been drooling in your sleep. </p><p>The bright red numbers on the radio clock read 05:21, too early to get up and start your day but too late to pack up and go to bed. You’d agreed to meet your parents for breakfast at 8, a decision you now sorely regretted. Your bed called from the other room, a siren’s song that took all of your energy to reject. </p><p>You sat upright, the dim light of your living room lamp still too bright for your poor, exhausted eyes. Clawing at the blanket over the sofa arm, you drew it around you, the fluffy fabric amazingly soft against your cheek as you covered your head. It was two weeks since Bruce had come round to your flat to watch movies together but it still smelled of his aftershave. God you missed him. </p><p>For part of his research, Bruce was visiting a lab in the back end of nowhere to collaborate with their scientists on a project he assured his lecturers would change the world. (He had zero belief that that was truly the case but had to say that or the funding would dry up faster than a lake in the Sahara.) Unfortunately, the trip was almost two months long and the distance was beginning to take its toll. </p><p>You missed sitting with him in the lab, the science completely out of your league but more than worth the brain ache to see him so happy, so content in his element. You missed the way his lips curved up into a smile around his coffee cup when an idea struck and how he never treated your presence as a nuisance. </p><p>Lunch felt lonely without him now. When you heard one of the three songs he had on repeat in the lab on the radio, your heart skipped a beat as you imagined him silently mouthing the words and his little, out of time shoulder shakes. Most of all, you missed Bruce’s shy smile and rosy blush every time you kissed his cheek or linked arms. </p><p>You still sent him random new stories that you thought would make him laugh and talked every day about weird and wonderful topics but it just wasn’t the same. Distance truly did make the heart grow fonder. He’d become such a stable point in your weekly timetable that you felt a genuine hole in your life without him around. </p><p>Drawn from your thoughts by that buzzing sound, you hunted for your phone amid the mess of research papers and draft write ups. You caught it just in time and swiped up, a relieved sigh as the video link solidified. “Bruce. I’ve missed you.”</p><p>    “Missed you too,” he mumbled. </p><p>You knew immediately that something was wrong. You couldn’t say what tipped you off first: the quiver in his voice or the hard pressed set of his mouth. No, you realised. It was his eyes that did it. Those gorgeous brown eyes that looked at the world with such curiosity and humour were bloodshot and tight. He was angry. </p><p>Concern causing your heart to race, you searched the dark image for any sign that he was injured or hurt. Thankfully, you found none. “What’s wrong?”</p><p>    “It’s fine.”</p><p>    “Bruce…”</p><p>He finally looked up at the screen, your bright image illuminating the crooked glasses. You could only imagine what he saw in your face as he furiously swiped at the corner of his eyes, chasing away the tears that threatened to overcome him. A long moment passed before Bruce admitted, “Nightmare.”</p><p>    “Do you wanna talk about it?”</p><p>It took so long for him to reply that you thought the image had frozen. You even tapped the screen to check, earning a brief smile that was instantly swallowed by the pain from which he tried to run. “I told you I had a pretty rough childhood, didn’t I? My dad was a bastard and sometimes he comes back to haunt me.”</p><p>    “I’m so sorry.”</p><p>    “It’s fine.”</p><p>    “It’s not, though, is it?”</p><p>He shook his head. “I wish you were here. I know I’m not - I mean, I don’t really like - you know…”</p><p>    “People?” you supplied, that light smirk on his lips holding for a moment longer than before. </p><p>    “I think it would be quite nice to hold you right now.”</p><p>Your mind literally stalled at the admission. The fact that Bruce was seeking physical contact was surprising enough and that he wanted it to be with you squeezed your heart to the point of almost breaking. The trust he must have to be touched, to be so close to someone, to you, was overwhelming. More curiously, that he wanted to hold and not be held left you wondering why. </p><p>Guessing your thoughts, he muttered softly, “I might not be able to fight it myself but you… You make me feel stronger. Braver. I can protect you from the darkness. From my darkness. I can keep you safe when you’re in my arms.”</p><p>It was far from poetic but his words affected you the same way as the most beautiful, fluid sonnets. They danced across your skin, vocalising something far deeper than they might initially suggest. You knew that he might never say those words but this was pretty damn close and almost worth more to you. </p><p>Misinterpreting your silence, Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose and said, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to… Let’s just pretend I didn’t say anything.”</p><p>    “I would love that, Bruce. In fact…” You grabbed your computer from the table and began searching for flights. You spoke about your day, filled the silence with meaningless nothings that actually meant a whole lot to him as you revealed your random thoughts and bared your heart to him. </p><p>You cut yourself off mid-sentence, deciding that it was for the best. After all, the last thing he really needed to hear about was the state of the ladies’ bathroom when you were trying to be daringly romantic. “There’s space on a flight next week to Brussels. I can get a train from there and come see you.”</p><p>Fear gnawed at your nerves as you awaited an answer, realising that this was a bloody huge step to take. Flying across the world to see your not boyfriend on the back of an emotionally wrung, midnight call. Yeah, that sounded crazy. But you were set on it, if he was. </p><p>    “How much is it?”</p><p>    “A few hundred.”</p><p>    “No way.” Your face fell, all the excitement you’d been feeling draining away in a blink of an eye. Suddenly aware of his sharp tone, Bruce’s eyes widened and he explained, “God, no. I want you to come so much. But you can’t afford that on a student budget. Let me ask Tony.”</p><p>    “You want Tony to fly across the world for a cuddle and not me?”</p><p>It took him a few moments to realise that you were joking. Always so serious, the absolute opposite to your impulsivity. Two sides of the same coin, indeed. The creases around his eyes softened. “His family are… fairly well off. I’m certain he’ll put you on one of their private jets.”</p><p>Ignoring the fact that Tony apparently had access to multiple private charters, you asked, “Why would he do that for me?”</p><p>Even in the shadows, his face only illuminated by the light of his phone screen, the rising pink on his skin was obvious. “I’ve had to dissuade Tony from many interventions into our… friendship? Relationship?” He searched your face for guidance and then settled on to the latter. “Relationship. Right. Yes. Well, he’s apparently your biggest fan and is willing to do pretty much anything to see us… happen.”</p><p>    “You’re friends are weird, Bruce.”</p><p>    “I know. Listen, I’ll talk to him in the morning and let you know what he says. If that’s okay.”</p><p>    “Of course it’s okay. Do you want me to stay on the line until you fall asleep again?”</p><p>    “I couldn’t ask you -”</p><p>    “I offered,” you said firmly. </p><p>Bruce smiled and balanced his phone on the pillow beside him. Your screen went dark but the line was still active, his breathing gentle and steady. Setting your own device on the table, you started reading your notes aloud for him to fall asleep to and it wasn’t long before all of your questions were met with a quiet snoring. </p><p>    “Sweet dreams, Bruce,” you whispered. “I love you.”</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. I'm So Lucky To Have You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The reader travels to visit Bruce and their quiet evening together is crashed by Tony, Clint and Nat for a family dinner</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You weren’t always sure where you stood on the idea of heaven but you knew that, if such a perfect place existed, it would be a lot like this: free from all the worries of the world, in the arms of a man you cared for deeply. A gentle melody, some kind of classical arrangement featuring the most incredible cellist, filled the warm silence.</p><p>Your head rested comfortably on Bruce’s chest, the gentle rhythm of his heart beat and the slow rise and fall of his breathing lulling you into a state of absolute peace. He trailed his fingers down the length of your arm, dancing across your skin in light swirling patterns. Bruce hummed softly beneath you, the deep vibrations rolling through your body as he pulled you closer. A thin blanket lay atop of you, more over you than Bruce because he was a natural furnace. </p><p>Good things never last, though, and the best certainly don’t. </p><p>A harsh knock on the door shocked you from your tranquil state but Bruce soothed your nerves with his mere presence. The rapping grew louder, a distinct pattern repeating every few seconds. You turned your head further into his chest and pulled the blanket around your shoulders, mumbling, “Ignore it. They’ll go away soon.”</p><p>    “It’s Tony.” With great reluctance, Bruce slipped out from under you and sighed, “You know that he won’t take no for an answer.”</p><p>Bruce opened the door barely an inch before Tony came bouncing in. He squinted in the relative darkness of the apartment and slapped his hand against the wall, searching for the lightswitch. By the time you opened your eyes, blinded by the sudden burst of light, Tony, Clint and a woman you didn’t recognise had made themselves comfortable around the small coffee table.</p><p>The red headed woman dropped three large bags on the table, filled to the brim with all kinds of takeaway. The smells alone were fantastic. Heavy notes of garlic and Indian spice hit first, followed by the more subtle notes of sharp sweetness and chilli that tickled the back of your throat. It was a celebration of world cuisine that in no way explained their intrusion on your quiet night-in with Bruce. </p><p>As they unpacked the feast, you wondered how many more people would be crashing your peaceful evening. There was enough there to feed a small army. </p><p>Perched on the edge of the sofa, Bruce’s fingers found yours and he laced them together. The stiffness in his shoulders softened as you calmed the storm inside. For all that he loved his friends, it was clear that your mild mannered scientist was as shocked by their sudden intrusion as you were. The anger he hid from you so well bubbled faintly beneath the surface, although whether it was directed at them or himself you couldn’t tell. All you knew was that he would never turn that rage on you. </p><p>Across the room, Tony grinned. “You forgot, didn’t you?" </p><p>    "I absolutely did not.” The woman caught his gaze and raised an eyebrow, the simple movement all that was necessary to break down Bruce’s valiant facade. He raked his fingers through the dark curls and sighed, “I might have forgotten."   </p><p>    "What is happening?” you whispered, completely lost in the half spoken conversation. </p><p>The way the friends looked at each other, simultaneously hard but with bright smiles on their faces, was like they were speaking an entirely different language, one you were too new to the group to understand. It left you feeling nervous, as if you were intruding on something bigger than you. </p><p>Bruce noticed immediately, almost as in tune to your emotions as you were. He squeezed your hand and slid down from the sofa arm onto the seat beside you. Tracing the grooves between your knuckles, he said, “Family dinner.”</p><p>    “It’s tradition,” Clint supplied. “June twenty-seventh every year.”</p><p>    “Exactly,” Tony jumped in. “We couldn’t break tradition just because you’d done a runner halfway across the world.”</p><p>Bruce rolled his eyes, although he had confessed to you that he was enjoying the peace and distance from his insane friends. His forehead crumpled as something occurred to him. “Is this one celebrating the first time we got black out drunk together or some other great anniversary?”</p><p>Hand over heart, mouth full of pad thai, Tony tried to hide his disappointment. He failed completely, mostly because he was absolutely faking it. More dramatic than a drama student after their final performance with the classmates they hate, Tony said, “I can’t believe you don’t remember the day we stole Fury’s cat.”</p><p>    “You kidnapped Goose?” you exclaimed, turning to Bruce with wide eyes. You’d never have believed that someone so sensible would do something so ridiculous - but then, with friends like this, perhaps you shouldn’t have been so surprised. “Was that when you realised she wouldn’t bite you?”</p><p>    “Oh, he knew beforehand,” Clint jumped in. “That’s what made taking her so easy. And we didn’t kidnap so much as entice away with expensive tuna steaks.”</p><p>The woman sat in Clint’s lap hummed as he fed her dumplings like a queen. She smiled at you, oozing seductiveness. This was a woman that knew her power; with a smile like that, she could wrap anyone around her finger and have them fall at her feet, a veritable goddess. “What these boys are neglecting to tell you is that Goose then proceeded to completely wreck their flat. She chewed up every piece of furniture, scratched the walls to hell and then ran away once they’d fed her. Turned up three days later in their lab, screaming for more food, and then drank… What was it? Some formula you’d been working on to accelerate cell growth? Well, let me tell you, that scary as she is now, that even the bravest hearts quivers at the sight of a six foot tall cat.”</p><p>    “Why on Earth are you celebrating such a failure?”</p><p>    “Because failure paves the way to success,” Tony supplied, his attempt to appear wise beyond his years slightly less successful with noodles slapping against his cheek. “Anyway, this is the anniversary of the day we managed to shrink her back down again.”</p><p>You looked between the group aghast. Who were these people? You knew that Bruce’s friends were brilliant but this was a whole other level of strange that you were absolutely not prepared for. You felt even more out of place than before. </p><p>They lasted a whole seven seconds before they burst into hysterics. Even Bruce laughed, muffling his gentle chuckle in your shoulder. He grabbed a cushion and chucked it at the woman, his aim perfect. “You are awful, Natasha.”</p><p>Much to your horror, Clint handed over a crisp note to Natasha, disappointment seeping from every pore. He shook his head and grumbled, “I can’t believe you fell for that, Y/N. I had faith in you!" </p><p>Seeing how they were too busy laughing to speak, Bruce explained, "We caught Goose as part of the annual scavenger hunt. They’re so legendary that Clint hitchhiked for, what, thirty six hours to come and join in. Anyway, Goose was worth more points than anything else on the list and we figured that it was easier to get her than bother with the small stuff. We were right and ended up winning a very large box of moonshine that one of the chemists brewed in their bathtub.”</p><p>Somehow that was equally ridiculous but Bruce was absolutely sincere as he grabbed a take out box from the table and offered it to you, aware that it was your favourite. He reached back down to grab a Thai curry and picked at the vegetables as Clint recalled how that had been truly fantastic moonshine. </p><p>    “So you studied with Bruce and Tony, then?” you asked Natasha between mouthfuls. “Or do you know them through Clint?”</p><p>    “Neither. I was visiting an old  girlfriend on campus the night of the scavenger hunt and was on my way home when I saw the boys struggling to fit through a window on the politics building. I’m really good at breaking into places so we joined forces and I helped them get into Fury’s office.”</p><p>    “Breaking and entering isn’t something to shout about, Tash.”</p><p>The red head shrugged. “Anyway, by the end of the night we were pretty much inseparable. Nothing like facing a demon cat and getting blackout drunk in a science lab to cement a friendship. And now that you’ve been inaugurated into our wonderful celebration, we expect to see you every year. Right, guys?”</p><p>Her question was met with a round of agreement and a few more of your fears about the group dissipated. Their willingness to accept you into their odd little family was incredibly touching. At your side, Bruce was smiling, also relieved that the others were as taken by you as he was. </p><p>You nudged his knee with yours, earning a playful elbow in return. Bruce didn’t jolt away as you shuffled closer, your forearms almost pressed together as you ate. You looked to him questioningly, checking that he was okay with this kind of close contact. </p><p>Everything was still so new with him that you found yourself studying his expression with each new touch for any sign that he wasn’t comfortable. It was a big learning curve. Some things, Bruce was perfectly fine with: cuddling, so long as he was the big spoon, and light brushes with his hands and face. </p><p>Others made him incredibly uncomfortable; for example, while he very much enjoyed holding you it was clear that he did not like being held or when you wrapped your arms around him. And he really hated his back being touched. You made a mental note of each reaction, compiling a list of ways to share your affectionate nature without ever knowingly crossing a line. </p><p>He nodded and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. Drawing back, you saw a soft smile on his face, the kind that he wore whenever you showed him any kindness, almost sad as if he thought he didn’t deserve it. If only Bruce saw himself the way you saw him: so incredibly worthy of your love.</p><p>    “We’re trying to eat over here, guys,” Clint groaned. “No sex at the dinner table.”</p><p>    “That wasn’t -”</p><p>    “He’s teasing, Banner.” Natasha whacked her partner and plucked the spring roll from his chopsticks with her own. “Clint’s just never - in fact, none of us have ever seen you so comfortable to touch another person.”</p><p>    “Well, he doesn’t like people,” you said.</p><p>    “That’s such a lie,” Tony said, sat back against a wall watching you with a grin. His dark hair flopped over his face but it didn’t hide the twinkle in his eyes. You could tell that he was so happy for his friend, almost as gleeful as if it were his own relationship blossoming. “Bruce has the biggest heart around but he’s scared to open it up to anyone in case they break it.”</p><p>Lowering his head, chasing an onion around the takeaway dish, Bruce grumbled, “New rule: no therapy over dinner." </p><p>    "But after?” you teased.</p><p>    “You’re meant to be on my side.”</p><p>    “I am, Bruce. We’re just teasing." </p><p>Still, you could feel the tension creeping in his muscles and changed the subject. It was easy considering how much Clint and Tony liked to speak. Natasha was quieter, watching everything like a hawk, but every time she spoke it was profound or utterly hilarious. You found yourself very much enjoying their company and before you knew it the evening had passed entirely. </p><p>Natasha was the one to suggest that they leave. You insisted that they needn’t go, well aware that they’d come prepared for a night of heavy drinking, but she was adamant. The trio hugged you tight and promised to be back tomorrow for a second round. Shutting the door behind them, you clicked the lock and then rejoined Bruce on the sofa, taking his hand in yours. "I won’t, you know.”</p><p>    “You won’t what?”</p><p>    “Break your heart.”</p><p>He pressed his forehead to yours, the contact perhaps the most intensely intimate yet. Bruce cupped your cheek, his breath warm as it fluttered past your cheek, his strong fingers so gentle as they brushed across your skin. “I am so lucky to have you.”</p>
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